Texting Pops
by feelzyfeelz
Summary: Peter is stuck in AP History, bored out of his mind. So of course he shoots a text to his unofficial dad. What could possibly go wrong? A funny oneshot of my two favorite nerds!


A/N: Hello! First fanfic in a long, LONG time. Decided to shake off my dusty plot bunnies and write some Percy Jackson fics. But good grief am I out of shape! So I decided to do a bit of a warm-up and do a fluffy oneshot of my favorite father-son duo instead! Please be aware that this was actually written before Endgame and Far From Home released (I'm just now getting around to posting it), so there's a possibility of there being canon inconsistencies. Luckily, this is fanfiction, and anything goes! Speaking of fanwork, I own nothing of this franchise and all rights belong to our overlords at Disney Studios!

Words: 1,427

All characters are platonic, no romance.

Please remember to keep reviews and comments respectful to the author and franchise creators.

Enjoy!

-xXx-

Peter sat in class, bored out of his mind. He wished and prayed and dreamed of having Ned in his AP World History class, but as the school opened back up after winter break and the second semester began, he knew the chances of that were slim to none.

The teacher had stepped out for the moment to take some paperwork up to the front office. Everyone giggled once the woman left, knowing that their teacher would gladly walk over hot coals for their principle. Those who could stomach the thought of teachers having a social life shipped them. They even had a ship name!

But now that he had finished the class' assignment, Peter sat in his chair, mind-numbingly bored. He didn't have any games on his phone, seeing as he had a laptop to play games from. But he dared not take it out in case someone tattled on him or the teacher came back early. Besides, the games all required internet access, and he couldn't bring himself to connect to any hotspots inside the building. (He worried greatly for Ned who insisted the school-provided Wi-Fi worked great.)

So he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his gallery of photos aimlessly before an idea popped into his head. Before he could stop himself, Peter opened up his messaging app and sent something quick to his best friend, seeing if he could spare the time.

But when he got no reply within five minutes, he knew Ned was busy. He didn't even try MJ, despite actually being on decent terms with each other. She would harass him as soon as school let out about texting during class time. So he texted the next best thing.

Peter: Hey Mr. Stark! Got a free period right now and wondered if anything new was going on. I swear I'm going to lose my last two brain cells from my sheer boredom! Save me! ;0;

Mr. Stark: Underoos, how many time have I told you that there is no escaping my all-seeing eye? I know for a fact that you are getting that cranium of yours stuffed with knowledge of the past, making you wiser for the future and blah blah blah. Pay attention, Spiderling, don't know when information about World War ll might come in handy!

Peter: But Mr. Stark! I've already finished all of my classwork and homework! I'm going to die of boredom without Ned or MJ or you or even the little fly in AP Spanish to keep me company!

Mr. Stark: Such cheek! Don't backtalk me young man! You root that rump to your seat and don't move until the end of class! Or else I'll take away your Xbox!

Peter: Nooooo! You wouldn't! D:

Mr. Snark: Try me! :-)

Peter: Your emoticons are pathetically out of date, Old Man.

Ancient One: Gasp! My own son, thinking of me as anything other than positively youthful! I'm positively in my prime!

Peter: Keep telling yourself that, Gramps. If I asked you to choose between being Yeeted or to do the Harlem Shake, what would pick?

Old Geezer: The Harlem Shake, of course! I'm not ancient! Honestly, Peter! Who, or rather, how old do you take me for!?

Peter: Mr. Stark, I worry for you.

Ancient One, The Sequel: Wait, what's being Yeeted?????

Peter did all he could to not groan in frustration, knowing perfectly well that Tony was having FRIDAY explain to him what yeet meant. He knew that that was the reason why it was taking him so long to reply. In the meantime, the bell had finally let out the sweet, ear-splitting sound and signaled to the students it was time to switch classes.

"Hey, Alex! The bell doesn't dismiss you, I do!" One of Flash's goons, Marcus, yelled out to his friend from the teacher's desk. It only elicited a few giggles and groans, but the guy felt like it was his duty to make a wisecrack in the absence of his leader, who was currently home sick with a chest cold.

Finally, Peter made it to Decathlon practice. It was actually supposed to be that "free period" he was talking about earlier, but ever since MJ became Captain, she thought it was best to utilize the time for better purposes.

Mr. Stark: Hey Squirt, would you happen to know anything about one Black Window all of a sudden turning up this morning with a pack of juice boxes? Do you have any idea how terrifying that was? How traumatized I am?

Peter chuckled into his jacket sleeve and passed his phone to Ned, who read it quickly and snorted so hard he gave himself a nosebleed.

"Mr. Parker, will you please escort Mr. Leeds to the nurse's office?" Mr. Harrington asked him without even turning away from the whiteboard.

"Sure thing." He muttered, patting his best friend on the back and handing him a wad of tissues.

Once they got to the front of the building, the school nurse quickly took Ned inside her tiny office, instructing Peter to wait outside. So, naturally, he took his phone back out.

Peter: Sorry, Mr. Stark. Don't know anyone by the name of Black Window.

Peter: Wait, IS IT THE APPLE JUICE? SHE ACTUALLY GOT THEM FOR ME? OMG I MIGHT PASS OUT I'VE BEEN CRAVING THAT BRAND OF JUICE FOR YEARS EVER SINCE THEY STOPPED SELLING IT IN THE STATES HOLY MOLY.

Mr. Stark: STOP CALLING ME MR. STARK, DANG IT. YOU'RE MAKING ME SOUND OLD. STOP THAT!

Totally-Not-Mr. Stark: Hold up, why did you go to Natasha for your apple juice withdrawals? You know I could easily just have some specially ordered for you, right? I'm???? So offended??????

Peter: Mr. Stark, please stop typing like that.

Mr. Pain-In-My-Butt: Like?????? What?????? Peter???????

Peter: You're only making yourself sound older than you are.

Peter: Which, then again, isn't too far off now that I think about it.

Mr. Barmy Old Codger: Fine, killjoy. I'll stop going like this??????? If you stop calling me Mr. Stark.

Peter sat back and actually thought about it for a second. On one hand, anything to get the man who closer resembled a dad saying "Hello, fellow humans!" than an actual genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, to stop talking. Then again, calling said genius billionaire playboy philanthropist anything other than Mr. Stark felt wrong on so many levels.

Peter: No dice. It feels like someone it tearing my tongue out everytime I call you anything other than Mr. Stark.

Mr. sTARK AND THAT'S FINAL: Okay, first of all, ew. Second of all, DON'T MAKE ME CALL AUNT MAY.

Peter: :D

Peter: Joke's on you! She was the one who reminds me to refer to you as Mr. Stark!

The teenage superhero didn't get a reply for a while. So long, in fact, he and Ned had to go back to practice. So Peter put his phone away and poured all his focus into the rapid-fire questions MJ was throwing his way. But as the day ended, and he finished his last questions with a relieved sigh, Peter froze as he reached the steps at the front of the school.

"So, kid, you were saying?" Came Tony's very smug voice as he and Aunt May leant against his car, wearing identical smirks.

-xXx-

Somewhere in the middle of Queens, sits a lone Flash Thompson, surrounded by tissues and cold medicine. He was enjoying a day off from school by taking a light nap when a sharp pain shot through his chest and caused him to bolt straight up.

"Parker." He muttered violently, before slamming his head back on his pillow and praying for mercy.


End file.
